


The Clean Truth Revealed

by islasands



Series: The Diary of an Incomplete Bastard [3]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:26:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islasands/pseuds/islasands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beneath the meeting of minds and souls lies the fundamental connection of sex. Once that connection wears out, many long term relationships are sustained by reverberations from the impact of its mystery. Nothing, I'm afraid, compares.</p><p>That, and this, is my story, and I'm sticking to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Clean Truth Revealed

He looked at himself in the mirror lining the box of the elevator and wondered if he should have taken more pains with his appearance. He could no longer depend on domestic intimacy to shelter his physical flaws. And that's the problem with living together, he thought. Everything becomes accessible to the other person. The thumbnail of love digs into your skin and peels it away, section by section, until your wet centre is exposed, the flesh of your personality, and for a while it's a relief, a great relief, thinking here is a person who takes me as I am. You wander around naked. You allow freedom of expression to the bodily functions that the decorum of courtship denies.You wake up and take for granted that the person lying next to you likes your face and is interested in what you have to say. You show the true colours of your temper and self-centredness because, well, because you are loveable and none of your flaws are fatal. 

It's a mistake, he thought. It makes too much room for error. The elevator door opened and he stepped into the hallway. He wished he had dressed more carefully. He needed to resurrect some of the barriers that had existed before they became a 'couple'. Above all, you mustn't empathise, he told himself. You won't stand a chance if you give a damn about his feelings. And don't breathe in his air of self-mastery. He prides himself on his independence and surrounds himself with it, like a moat around a keep. He thinks he can be happy without me and he's probably right, but that's not the issue here. He has to feel his instinct to want to fit me like a glove. He has to think there is no better fit and that trust is a byproduct of suiting one another and not the precursor. 

He came to the door and took a deep breath. He needed to quell the misgivings he always felt before undertaking any enterprise that had the potential for success. Failure was okay. He rather liked failure, always had. It was the goad of all his endeavours to date. Dismay had never made him want to lie down. Quite the opposite in fact. It made him ruthless. He calmed his nerves and knocked on the door and waited for him to answer. 

The door opened and there he was. It took a rare of effort of self control to maintain his separateness and not reach out a hand to touch him. 

"What do you want," said his lover. "There's no point. There won't be any point."

"I'm not here to talk," Adam said, deliberately running his eyes over his lover's frame. "And I need to use your toilet," he added, quickly withdrawing the import of his advance. "I can do that, can't I?" 

His lover dropped his hand from the door handle and took a step back. 

"It won't change anything," he said. "I don't want you here and I'm going out." 

"I can see that," Adam said, pushing past him. He looked back. "Where is it?" he asked. They both stared at one another, belligerent in their mutual acknowledgement that they no longer shared a territory. "Through there," his lover indicated. Adam found the bathroom and closed the door. He looked around. He went over to the handbasin and picked up a bottle of something. He opened the cabinet behind the mirror and recognised some of the items. How dare he, he thought. He closed the cabinet and looked at his reflection. How dare he, he said to himself again. He reached over and flushed the toilet. He waited a moment. He went back into the living room. His lover was still standing a small distance from the door, which remained open, ready for his expected exit. His lover nodded at the door. He went over to the doorway but instead of going through it he closed the door. He turned and leant his back on it. 

For the first time his lover looked sad. He shook his head at Adam. "I want you to go," he said. 

"No you don't," Adam said. He took a step towards his lover. "Well, you do, but that can change." He kept his eyes on his face while he began to unbuckle his belt.

"Don't," his lover said. "You are embarrassing yourself. You need to leave." But he didn't move away. "Everything is not about sex," his lover went on. "You always think..."

Adam took another step towards him. His belt was undone. He unzipped the zipper of his pants. "I thought it was," he said. He scanned his lover's face in readiness for examining it with his lips. One eyebrow went up. "This whole thing, I thought it was all about sex." His lover, against his better intentions, glanced down at Adam's fly. His face was working.Their proximity was unbearable. "Not in a good way," Adam added. He took his lover's hand and placed it over his groin. He knew he had to capitalise on the tension of his lover's disdain both for him and for the response that was happening in his own genitals. "No, don't," he said, when his lover tried to withdraw his hand. He noted that the effort was insincere. My poor darling, he thought but he chased the thought away. This was not the time for tenderness. Later. Later. He put his hands on his lover's hips and drew him towards him. 

"Do you really think this is a solution?" his lover said, but it came out as a whisper. Nor did he resist when Adam began undoing his pants. Instead, he made a guttural sound of disbelief. He was giving in to a sense of helplessness at the exact same time that he was was rising to its occasion. "No, I don't," Adam said. By now he had released both of their erections. He put his hand around their cocks and held them that way. "Look at us," he said. His lover unwillingly looked down. He unwillingly joined his hand to Adam's. He unwillingly pressed his body closer so that the cluster of their hands and genitals could produce its fruit without danger of the fruit falling. Their heads touched. Their complicity of desire at that moment was overwhelming to both of them. "I don't want this," his lover said to the lips that were about to kiss him. "You hurt me." For answer Adam kissed him. He withdrew his hand and put both arms around him. He knew the kiss had to be definitive. A silencing kiss. He could do it. 

He closed his mouth over his lover's mouth. He could feel the painfulness of his lover's objection and it entered him like a flame. The wilderness of his heart was set alight. He lifted his lover bodily to force him to lock his arms and legs around him. He turned slowly around and around as though they were standing on a carousel. "It is what it is," he said to his lover, when there was a natural pause in their kissing. "I can't forgive you," his lover replied, but his expression was utterly tender. 

Adam wanted to say, "I'll see to it that it doesn't happen again," but instead held him even more tightly and said gruffly, "Where's the bed?" 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
